


The Hazards of Betting Against Hawkeye

by sharkie335



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bets & Wagers, Crossdressing, M/M, Rimming, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson lost a bet and has been paying the price all day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hazards of Betting Against Hawkeye

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a break from the _serious story_ that I’m working on, and gblvr gave me a prompt of Coulson wearing women's underwear under his suit.

To the untrained eye, Coulson looked like his usual calm, unruffled self. But Clint was no newbie. He knew Coulson very well - biblically even. And this was a Coulson who was working hard to maintain that deadpan exterior.

Of course, it helped that Clint knew exactly _why_ Coulson was struggling not to squirm as he took the Avengers’ post-mission reports. He smiled a little, but it was enough for Tony to notice. 

“What’s so funny, Katniss?” Tony asked loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Share the joke with the rest of us.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Clint said. “Just thinking how awesome those new arrows were that I got from R&D.”

That little comment worked just as it was supposed to, setting off Tony in a rant about how he could do so much better than those little dweebs done in SHIELD’s R&D. All he needed was a few more hours in the day to get everything done.

Clint knew how hard Tony worked, but he really wanted the ceramic arrows he knew that Tony had been working on. Plus, keeping Tony’s attention (and by extension the rest of the team) on Clint meant that Coulson could relax just a little. “I’m hearing a lot of talk, Tony,” Clint said. “But they’re giving me arrows and you’re not, so for now they win.”

“Fine. Be that way,” Tony said, clearly annoyed and challenged. “We done here, Coulson? I’ve got things I need to be doing back in the lab.”

Coulson hesitated, glancing down at the assorted forms in front of him, and then he shrugged. “Yes, fine. All of you are free to go.”

Tony and Thor were the first ones out - Thor to see Jane, Clint was sure, and Tony to the workshop. Steve paused to say something to Coulson that Clint couldn’t hear, and then turned to Bruce, patting him on the shoulder and offering him a hand up. Bruce was always exhausted after hulking out, and Steve seemed to have decided a long time ago that he was going to make sure he was okay.

That left three of them in the room - Clint, Natasha, and Coulson. Natasha looked between Clint and Coulson and smirked. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you two,” Natasha said, “But I suspect that if I leave you two alone you won’t even make it back to the tower, and where would the fun be in that?” 

“Oh, I think there’d be plenty of fun,” Clint said. He knew that she wasn’t going to let him off that easily, though.

“You’re coming with me,” she said, looping an arm through Clint’s. “You promised to show me that new move you learned from Simpson.”

Aw, hell. He hated being right. “I did, but do we have to do it right now?” he asked, making his voice as whiny as possible to annoy her. “I have _plans_.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said as she started them towards the door. “But if you and Coulson get caught here at headquarters one more time, Fury is going to make me kill one or both of you, so consider this a preventative measure.” She turned to look at Coulson and added, “I’ll return him in an hour or two, to your quarters at the tower.”

Clint turned soft eyes on Coulson, hoping that Coulson would break just enough to ask Natasha not to do this. But instead Coulson’s lips thinned, as if he was fighting the urge, and then he nodded. “I’ll just give the reports to Director Fury, and then I’m going to our apartment,” he said. “I’m holding you to that time frame.”

Sighing, Clint let Natasha drag him away. He had to admit, though, that Coulson was holding up a lot better than Clint had thought he would. If it had been Clint, he certainly wouldn’t be willing to wait two more hours. Actually, it _wasn’t_ Clint and he still had problems waiting.

“Whatever it is can wait, Clint,” Natasha said as she led the way to the SHIELD gym.

“Not really,” he muttered. “If one of us explodes from being held back, I’m blaming you.”

“I can live with that,” she said as she laughed. “Come on, I want to see that move, and whatever is going on between you two will be sweeter for waiting a little while.”

“We’ve been waiting all damn day,” Clint said, but he moved to the mats off the side and started to stretch. Simpson’s move, for all it looked simple as hell, was damn hard to pull off, and he wasn’t going to risk a shoulder injury right now.

Sufficiently loose and warm, he looked to Natasha to make sure she was ready, and at her nod, he moved.

This particular move had taken him hours to learn from Simpson, hours of getting thrown over and over again, and then failing utterly to throw Simpson in return, before he finally had a good grip on it. Unsurprisingly, Natasha had it down cold in under forty-five minutes, and within an hour was already making suggestions on how it could be improved under certain conditions.

He knew better than to assume that they were done, though, and he was right. As soon as Natasha had the move solid, it turned into a rough and tumble sparring match.

The two of them had been fighting together for so long that they were fairly evenly matched. In terms of pure muscle, he was stronger, especially in the upper body, but she had him on flexibility and speed, and by the time she finally called a halt to the match, they were both flat on their backs on the mat, breathing hard.

“So, you going to tell me what has you and Coulson so wound up today?” Natasha asked.

He shouldn’t tell her. He _really_ shouldn’t. But he’d never been any good at keeping secrets from Natasha. 

Lifting his head, he checked to make sure that the gym was still empty other than them. Seeing that it was, he looked over and met her eyes. He couldn’t be open about it, since the gyms were under constant surveillance, but he knew she’d get it when he said, “Coulson lost a bet with me.”

Her eyes got a fraction wider, which for anyone else would be an exclamation of surprise. “You didn’t…”

“I most certainly did,” he said with a grin. “And now that you know, you think you could let me go collect?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m going to get details, right?”

He laughed and then rolled to his feet. “What kind of man would I be if I kissed and told at that level of detail, Romanoff?”

“Oh, that’s not fair,” she complained as she stood as well. “You’re just leaving me to my imagination.”

“You got it. Showers so that we can go home?”

“I don’t know why you’re bothering,” Natasha said. “Coulson likes you sweaty.”

“True. And yet…” 

She punched him in the arm before the two of them split up to go to their respective locker rooms to shower and change. Clint was glad that the locker room was as empty as the gym, because now that he knew that he was headed home soon, his cock was getting very interested in things again.

He ran his hand up his length, just once, a promise of things to come, and then resolutely turned his attention to getting the sweat out of his hair. 

Clean and dry, he dressed in the spare clothes he always kept at headquarters and headed out to wait for Natasha. Under pressure, she could be dressed to kill in less time than it took Clint to take his clothes off to shower, but he knew that she’d drag it out just to make him suffer. He also knew that she’d find a way to punish him if he just left her here and headed home alone.

Twenty minutes later, he was silently cursing her name when she finally came out of the women’s locker room. “About time,” he said, keeping his voice mild and trying to hide his annoyance.

Her expression told him that he hadn’t done a very good job of it, but hey, at least he’d tried. She didn’t try to hold them up any longer, though, and the two of them headed to the parking garage.

One of the benefits of living with Tony was that parking was never an issue at the tower, and Clint had taken advantage of that to buy his first ever car. Tony hated it - he didn’t understand why Clint had bought a Dodge Ram when he had free access to all of Tony’s flashy cars. Clint had tried to explain that, while Tony’s cars were cool, it was the idea of owning one at all that Clint was trying to express. And while he wasn’t above driving a Bugatti when he could, a pick up was much more his speed.

Driving in New York always made him question his sanity in owning the damn thing in the first place, but as they pulled into the garage under the Tower, the noise and chaos of the street cut off, and all Clint could think of was getting to Coulson.

Thankfully, Natasha seemed to be done with torturing Clint for the day, because when he pushed the button for the level that he shared with Coulson, she just snorted and punched his shoulder before hitting the one for the main level. “If I were you, I’d ask Jarvis to lock down your level, or you’re going to have Tony there wanting you to test arrows,” she said mischieviously.

“Good thought,” he said, and then looked at the ceiling. “Jarvis, my man - you got that? Lock us down as soon as I get home, for, let’s see, about six hours.”

Jarvis sounded downright amused when he said, “Of course, Agent Barton. Standard exceptions apply, I assume?”

“Yeah, you can notify us if the world is exploding, but otherwise, total blackout.”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said, and about twenty seconds later, the elevator dinged their arrival at the floor Clint shared with Coulson. He shared a grin with Natasha, and stepped out, letting the door close behind him, and suddenly he couldn’t wait another second to see Coulson.

Letting himself into the sitting area, it took half a second to spot Coulson sitting on the couch, staring at the tv.

Nope, that wasn’t Coulson, that was _Phil_. Coulson would never be sitting so still that Clint could barely tell he was breathing, and sweating none the less. Coulson would never be radiating the desperation that Phil was. Coulson wouldn’t have stripped off his coat,and tie, sitting there barefoot with his shirt sleeves rolled up and hair mussed from running his hands through it. Most importantly, they were behind closed doors, no one was going to bother them, and Phil was _Clint’s_.

“How you doing?” he asked, not bothering to try to hide the amusement in his voice.

Phil finally turned to look at Clint. “Like if I don’t get laid in the next five minutes, I’m going to explode, you bastard.”

Clint sauntered forward. “Terms of the bet a little harder to take then you had expected?”

“Yes. I don’t have a clue how women can wear these things all day without going mad.” Phil’s need was radiating through every word.

“We can do something about that,” Clint said, finally close enough to touch. But instead of bending over to kiss Phil, he offered his hand.

“You’re going to make me walk to the bedroom, aren’t you?” Phil sounded resigned and horny as fuck.

“Yep.” It wouldn’t be the first time they had screwed on the couch, but Clint had earned this, had earned the right to make Phil squirm a little more, so he took Phil’s hand and hauled him to his feet, pushing him gently towards their bedroom. 

There was a tiny little hitch in Phil’s gait. Tony or Thor would never have noticed, but Clint did. Clint knew exactly why Phil wasn’t walking his normal brisk stride, and the thought went straight to his balls. Oh, this was going to be so good.

When they got to the room, Clint touched Phil on the shoulder and turned him, leaning forward and taking his mouth in a soft, gentle kiss, one that carried a promise with it. Phil let him for about thirty seconds, before his grip tightened on Clint’s forearms and Phil tried to deepen it, his mouth open and his tongue demanding entrance into Clint’s.

And Clint wasn’t done being a bastard just yet, so he pulled away, out of Phil’s grip. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he said, “Okay, let me see.”

Phil whimpered. He fucking _whimpered_. “Aren’t you going to take your clothes off, too?”

“Not just yet,” Clint said. “Come on, take it off. But _slowly_.”

The look Phil shot him was annoyance personified. But he started slowly unbuttoning his shirt, letting Clint get a glimpse of the lace of the camisole that Phil was wearing under it. They’d talked about a bra, but while Clint was a bastard, there was enough concern about Phil being distracted by an underwire that they’d compromised on this instead.

But _because_ Clint was a bastard, the entire thing was made of cream lace. As the shirt dropped away, he couldn’t do anything but gape at the way the thing hugged Phil’s body. He should have looked ridiculous, with his body hair and masculine shape under such a feminine top, but it just made him look even hotter, which Clint hadn’t known was possible. 

He reached down to adjust himself in his pants. “Come on, Phil. Let me see the rest of it.”

Phil undid his belt and zip, letting his suit pants fall to the floor. All Clint could do was gape at the sight.

Phil was wearing a pair of high cut panties made of the same lace as the top. The head of his cock was peaking out of the waistband while the material cupped his balls softly. When Phil turned around, Clint saw that they left the lower half of his ass cheeks bare, and fuck, he couldn’t just look anymore. He had to touch.

Jumping to his feet, he grabbed Phil and pulled him into his arms, letting his hands slide down Phil’s back to those hot panties, and pulling him up tight against Clint. Phil groaned and wrapped his arms around Clint’s neck. “Please,” he said. “I’ve done it - I’ve worn these all day - but I can’t stand it anymore. I need you to touch me.”

“Oh, I’m going to touch you, all right,” Clint said. “Go lie down on the bed - I’ll be there in just a second.”

By the time Phil was on the bed on his back, Clint had his shirt off and his pants around his knees - only to realize that he’d left his damn boots on. He swore and jerked his jeans back up so that he could untie the damn things and get them off, not looking at Phil because even with the lust so thick in the air that he could actually taste it, he was still certain that Phil was probably laughing at him.

A smothered chuckle confirmed that, and Clint grinned down at his laces. The best part about being with Phil? The absolutely most awesome part, bar none? Was the fact that they could laugh with each other, and the rare sound of Phil’s laughter always went right to the reward center of Clint’s brain, regardless of why.

Finally he managed to get his damn boots and jeans off, and then he jumped on the bed, moving to straddle Phil’s thighs. “So you thought that was funny, huh?”

“Uh, huh,” Phil said, but then Clint ran his hands up his legs and wrapped them around his hips and Phil seemed to lose focus.

The lace under Clint’s hands was soft, softer than it looked, and he squeezed gently before starting to trace random paths over the panties and camisole. He was careful to be firm enough not to tickle, but he didn’t come near any of Phil’s very interesting bits, to Phil’s very vocal disapproval.

“Dammit, Clint, I’ve been hard for hours,” Phil practically whined. “Please, please, please - I will never question your ability to make a shot again, regardless of how much you’ve been drinking with Thor. Just please fucking _touch_ me.”

Clint smiled. “Damn straight you won’t,” he said, and then he slid back along Phil’s legs until he could lean down and press a kiss to the shaft of Phil’s cock, right through the lace. Phil gasped, his hips making an aborted lift up, and Clint did it again before licking the lace. 

Even through the cloth, Clint could taste Phil, and he focused on sucking every square inch of the panties, soaking them through, and making Phil whimper and squirm, without going near the head of his cock.

When he didn’t think he could stand another second of not being inside Phil, he shifted to the side. “Roll over. On your hands and knees,” he said softly. He didn’t need to order Phil - not when he was strung out and desperate like this. 

Phil eagerly complied, but when his hands went to the waist of the panties, Clint stopped him. “No, I’m going to fuck you with them on.” Phil groaned and dropped his head down, as if the thought was pressing him into the bed. Clint made a grab for the lube and then moved between Phil’s legs. 

One thing he had to do before he got Phil slick, though. He used his hands to spread Phil’s cheeks and licked at his hole through the lace. Phil shouted, his elbows giving way as his shoulders crashed into the bed, lifting his ass even higher for Clint. Clint licked it again, and then carefully slicked two of his fingers before pulling the panties to the side and sliding them inside Phil.

Phil seemed to be beyond words now, if the broken noises coming from him were any indication. He was rocking on his knees, fucking himself on Clint’s fingers, and Clint’s best intentions of making sure that Phil was loose enough broke under the assault. 

Pulling his fingers out, he poured out half the bottle trying to slick his cock, spilling it all over everything and not giving a good goddamn. With Phil’s panties still pulled to the side, he lined up and pushed in as slow as he could deal with. It was still faster than he would normally, but right this second, he didn’t think either of them cared. All he cared about was getting his cock as deep as he could in Phil, and all Phil probably cared about was getting _off_.

Clint forced himself to pause for a second, to give Phil a second to adjust, but almost immediately Phil was rocking again, and that was enough to break Clint’s control and his brain. He started to thrust - forceful enough to push Phil up the bed, and oh, so, fucking good around his cock. He could feel the elastic and lace of the panties rubbing against the side of his cock, adding another layer of sensation to an already unforgettable fuck. “Love you, love fucking you, can never do this enough,” he chanted as he moved.

“Fuck, _please_ , Clint,” Phil begged. “I’ve got to come. Please make me come.”

It took all of Clint’s available concentration and coordination to reach down and wrap his hand around Phil’s cock, holding it tight right through the delicate lace, and Phil practically screamed, his hips pumping madly as he spurted all over his pretty panties. 

As soon as Phil was reduced to quivering aftershocks, Clint leaned forward and wrapped an arm around his chest, pulling him up so that he was kneeling in Clint’s lap. It pushed Clint impossibly deeper, making him groan. He ran his hands over the lace of the cami, plucking at Phil’s nipples and feeling him clench around his cock.

Phil was as loose as a rag doll, moving as Clint directed, and Clint leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “You look so good in these - maybe I should get a couple more sets for each of us? I bet I could make you come without touching your cock if we both were wearing these.” 

Groaning, Phil tightened around Clint. “Trying to kill me,” he slurred out. 

Clint rolled his hips a little more forcefully. “Nah, just thinking ahead the way you taught me. And trying not to come, because your ass feels amazing around my cock.” 

“Show me,” Phil said, as he rested his head against Clint’s shoulder, his hips matching Clint’s. “Come on, fill me up the way we both want.”

“Keep doing that, and I will,” Clint said, filling his hands with as much of Phil as he could touch, loving the way that the lace was such a contrast to Phil’s skin. It didn’t take much more - a half dozen strokes at most. His orgasm wasn’t as forceful as Phil’s had seemed, but it still turned Clint inside out, making him shake and gasp as he continued to rock inside Phil, not wanting the connection to end.

Finally, he softened enough that he slid unwillingly out of Phil’s body. He helped Phil lie down carefully and joined him, Clint not caring that there was a pool of lube under him, or that somehow he’d also ended up in Phil’s wet spot. Wrapping himself tight around Phil, they just breathed together, as they both came down.

“Did you mean it?” Phil asked, after a few minutes.

“Mean what?” Clint asked, yawning. And then he remembered. “Oh! About both of us in women’s underwear?”

“Yeah.”

Clint grinned so hard that his face hurt. “Given how hard you just came? You really have to ask that?”

“Guess not,” Phil said. “I’m picking yours out, though.” He pressed his face into Clint’s shoulder. “I think you’d look amazing in purple.”


	2. Coulson Gets His Revenge in Little Purple Panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil gets revenge on Clint for making him wear women's underwear when he lost a bet. Clint isn't sure he's going to survive it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to gblvr and shaenie who told me this doesn't suck.

Clint stumbled from the bathroom, scrubbing at his face as he fought a losing battle to wake the fuck up. After a late night at one of Tony’s stupid charity events, and far too much champagne, not even a shower had gotten his brain to turn on.

He wouldn’t even be awake right now, but Fury had called Phil in early, and Phil had had no pity on Clint’s poor hungover head, banging around as he got up. Clint knew that he just had to have done it deliberately. It wasn’t fair - it wasn’t like Clint had made Fury call Phil in early.

His state of grogginess could excuse the time it took him to figure out what the hell he was looking at when he opened his underwear drawer. Instead of his neutral boxer briefs, the entire drawer was filled with purple. A _lot_ of purple. What the hell?

Grabbing the layer on top, he shook out the material to realize that he was holding three pairs of panties. Women’s panties. Women’s lacy, delicate, _purple_ panties. 

Phil was _evil._

He was tempted to just say fuck it and go commando, but the panties in his hand were silky and soft, and after torturing Phil with women’s underwear four days previously, he figured it couldn’t hurt to at least try them on. Besides, Phil had gone to all the effort to buy all these things and set things up so that Fury would call him in on a Saturday. And payback would be a bitch if he didn’t play along with this - he’d avoid the panties, but there was no question that Phil could - and _would_ \- come up with something worse.

Setting down two of the pairs, he held up the one still in his hand and looked at them critically. They looked like what he thought of when he thought of women’s underwear, but he wasn’t sure they’d actually have enough room for his cock and balls. “Fuck it,” he muttered, and held them open to step in.

The sensation of the lace sliding up his thighs was definitely… different. As he pulled them up to his waist, he discovered that he’d been right to wonder if he was actually going to all fit, because it was definitely a tight thing. He managed to get it all tucked in - there was a lot more stretch in the lace than he’d thought originally - but they were _there_ in a way that his regular underwear _wasn’t_.

He ran his hand down the front of the panties, feeling the way they cupped his cock and balls, and gasped at how much sensation the lace let through. Suddenly, this didn’t seem like just avoiding payback - this was definitely something he could enjoy. 

Pulling out several more handfuls of soft lace and silk, he laid them out on the bed and realized that in four days, Phil had managed to obtain more than twenty different styles of purple women’s panties. On the one hand, when the hell had he had time to do this? On the other, the thought did warm twisty things to his insides. He knew that if he let it, he’d end up focusing on that idea for hours, so he deliberately set it aside as something to consider the next time they were going to be apart more than a few hours.

He reluctantly slid the first pair off and eagerly grabbed for the second. This pair had more material, and as he pulled them up, he realized that they were shaped like what a previous girlfriend had called “granny panties.” He almost didn’t finish pulling them up, but decided that he might as well give them a go.

As they settled into place, he was so very glad that he had, because these were satin, and the sensation of the slick material sliding over him took him from mostly hard to all the way in about half a second. They had less stretch than the first pair, though, so they held his hard cock tight up against his belly, making him groan.

The temptation to just rub off through them was almost overpowering, but now he _really_ wanted to see how everything else fit. He almost tore them in his eagerness to get to the next pair, but forced himself to slow down and take them off carefully.

The next pair he grabbed was a thong, and he had a thought that he’d finally find out just how uncomfortable they were. The front panel was also satin, with a wide lace band around the top. Pulling them on took seconds, and he realized that while the thong part was distracting, it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable. Curious, he turned to look at the mirror over the dresser, and realized that rather than looking ridiculous, he looked hot. He definitely would do him dressed like this, and he betted that Phil wouldn’t be able to resist.

For the next few minutes, he tried on pair after pair, and he rapidly realized that some of the underwear was kinkier than others, and he decided to work towards the most kinky pair last. There was no question that the selection had to be deliberate - it was just the kind of thing that Phil would do, after all.

When he finally got to the last pair of panties to come out of the drawer, and the pair he’d been side-eyeing since he’d seen them in the first place, he took a deep breath and picked it up. It was a g-string, of which there had been several, but the front panel was soft leather, and the part that would slid up between his cheeks felt like silk cord.

He knew - he just _knew_ \- that if he put this pair on, he was going to have to jerk off. Immediately, if not sooner. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to get them on without coming. 

Just then, his phone rang with Phil’s ringtone. He dropped the g-string and grabbed the phone. “Hello?” he said, knowing that his voice was probably choked and thick with the lust rushing through his veins.

“Put them on,” Phil said. “Put them on, put on your pants, and _don’t come_.” 

“Fuck. How… what…”

“Jarvis was asked to tell me when you got to the leather g-string. That _is_ what you were looking at, right?” Phil sounded far too put together for this conversation.

“You are _evil_ , sir,” Clint said. “If I do that, how long are you going to make me wait?”

Phil was smirking. Clint could just tell. “Oh, I don’t know. How long did I wear that underwear on Tuesday?”

“Hey, you brought that on yourself,” Clint said. “I won that bet fair and square.”

“You did, which is why I’m not going to order you to wear them. I’m just going to ask very nicely, and if you do it, you’ll get a reward. Now, Clint, would you please put on that very pretty g-string, and then get dressed and leave the room?”

“Evil,” Clint muttered, knowing that he was going to do it, just because Phil had asked. Then he sighed dramatically. “I guess. You _are_ going to come home and fuck me, right?”

“Till you don’t even know your name, Barton. Now, go on and let me get this work done.” With that, Phil hung up the phone.

Clint set his phone down at the bed, still looking down at the leather and silk in his hand. This was going to suck, but only in the very best ways. 

Pulling the g-string on was a special form of hell. The lining was silk, in addition to the strings, and it slid smoothly into place over his cock and balls. It wasn’t even close to being big enough to hold everything in place, which was even worse - as he moved, his cock and balls shifted around behind the small leather panel, which was like getting a very uncoordinated hand job. 

Another glance in the mirror showed not only the head of his cock peeking out, and the bulge of his balls, but the hectic flush of his cheeks, and the way he was practically panting, just from standing in one place.

He had to stand very still and breathe deep for several seconds to keep from just coming untouched, right then and there. When he thought he could handle moving, he carefully reached for his jeans on the bed, and discovered that it wasn’t just the material over his junk that was the problem. The thin cords of silk that ran up the crack of his ass were almost as bad a tease - they dragged over his hole and the area around it, and Clint didn’t even know this level of torture was possible from a single piece of clothing.

As he pulled his jeans on, he had a faint hope that they’d make the situation more bearable. But as he buttoned and zipped up, he discovered that he was so very wrong, because now he had the contrast of the rough denim right up against the silk and leather, and the contrast was intense. He bit his lip to keep from whimpering as everything settled into place.

He grabbed a t-shirt, not even paying attention to which one it was, and carefully headed towards the door. He knew that he was walking oddly, but hopefully he’d be able to get to the living room and sitting down without running into anyone from the team. That would fulfill the letter of what Phil had told him to do, after all.

Those vague hopes were dashed when he walked through the door and found the entire team lounging around, watching _The Princess Bride_ , which was a team favorite. As he moved carefully towards the first open seat, Steve looked up and saw him. “Hey, Clint,” he said cheerfully. Then he seemed to notice Clint’s difficulty, and grabbed the remote, pausing the movie. “What’s wrong? Are you injured?”

Of course, now the whole fucking team’s attention was focused on Clint and the way he was walking. He clenched his teeth - hurrying to the seat was _not_ an option - and forced himself to stay calm as he said, “Nothing big, Cap. Just pulled a muscle last night.”

“But we didn’t do any training last night,” Steve said, and then his voice trailed off as he came to the obvious, and wrong, conclusion. Thankfully, it had the effect of stopping that course of questioning from him.

Unfortunately, it did nothing to stop Tony. “You and Agent Coulson got busy last night and you got hurt? I wouldn’t have thought that he’d be able to make you pull a muscle, but I guess there’s more to him than the suits.”

Clint rolled his eyes, trying to appear normal. “Yes, we got ‘busy,’” he said, making the air quotes. “We frequently do, not that it’s any of your business. And it’s not how I got injured, anyway, so you can quit blushing, Steve.”

“Then how did it happen?” Thor asked. “There was no battle, no noise in the night to indicate a struggle.”

Natasha caught his eye, then. She was smiling faintly, but her eyes glinted with mischief, and Clint suddenly realized how Phil had managed to get so many pairs of panties in such a short time. He mouthed, “You are evil,” at her, and that just made her smile wider and nod her head slightly.

“It’s fine, Thor,” she said, bailing him out. “He was showing me a new stretch and went a little too far. He’ll be fine in a day or two.” Okay, he could have done without being made to look like he didn’t know his own limits, but at least Thor and Steve looked satisfied with that answer. Tony looked like he was going to challenge it, but then Bruce elbowed him in the side, and he subsided. 

“Let’s just watch the movie,” Bruce suggested smoothly, and Clint sighed with relief when Steve nodded and hit “play” on the remote.

Clint had to work really hard not to fidget. The g-string moved with each breath, with each small movement, and every time it did, his cock got harder, his hole more sensitized. This was _hell_ , and Phil was _evil_. 

They made it through the rest of _Princess Bride_ , and then there was an argument over what was next. Apparently the common consensus was Monty Python, and the disagreement was _Life of Brian_ or _Meaning of Life_. Clint didn’t give two flying fucks - he just wanted them to start something before somebody noticed that it was getting increasingly difficult for him to sit still.

Finally the argument wound down in favor of _Meaning_ , and as the movie started up, Clint shifted a little too far, and had to freeze in place, because his other option was coming in his pants. He bit his lip, and took a deep breath, trying to summon some control from _somewhere_. He was not going to come in his pants in front of everyone. Never going to happen.

Thankfully, Phil walked through the door right at that moment, and Clint could see an end to this torture. As he was greeted by the team, Clint tried to gather himself to stand up, only to have Phil say, “ _Meaning of Life_? I love this movie,” and settle into the couch next to him.

“Um, Phil,” he started to say, only to have Phil shush him without even looking over.

Okay, so Natasha _and_ Phil were evil.

Clint sat there, staring blindly at the movie as the team laughed and made grossed out faces at various scenes. He could see that he was getting curious glances from just about everyone, but right now he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

Finally, after the closing credits, the team started to move around. Bruce announced his intention to start dinner and Tony followed him, clearly meaning to poke at Bruce until he got his hand swatted. Thor and Steve headed down to the gym to spar, which left Natasha, Phil, and Clint alone in the living room.

Natasha’s smile became wide and vicious. “So, Phil, have you got time to go over those mission reports?” she asked.

“Tasha!” Clint couldn’t help the whine in his voice. He could not handle another minute of this. He was about to go out of his mind.

Phil flashed a teasing grin at Clint and then said, “Maybe later, Natasha. I have plans for this afternoon.”

She laughed, clear as a bell. As she left the room, she called back over her shoulder. “Have fun, you two.”

“Oh, we will,” Phil said, voice pitched low and dark. Clint swallowed hard. _Finally_.

Phil stood up, and then stood there and grinned as Clint struggled to find a way to stand up without going off. As soon as Clint was on his feet, he headed down the hall towards their quarters, Clint doing his best to keep up.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Clint shoved Phil up against the wall, grinding his hips into Phil’s and kissing him hard and frantic. He was so desperate for contact, he didn’t even realize that Phil’s hands were moving, gripping him hard, until Phil had shoved him back, stepped out from the wall, and then pushed Clint face-first against it.

The feeling of Phil’s hard cock pressing against Clint’s ass made him cry out. “God. You’ve got to fuck me. Right now, please, Phil!”

Phil leaned in, lips against Clint’s ear, and said, “That’s the plan.” Clint didn’t even try to hide the groan that ripped from his chest at the feel of his breath against Clint’s face.

When Phil released his grip, Clint stayed where he was for a second, trying to catch his breath. When he turned around, Phil had stepped back, and was standing there with his arms crossed in front of him. “Show me,” he said, in his take-no-prisoners voice, the one that always went straight to Clint’s balls.

Disobeying didn’t even occur to Clint, and he hurriedly stripped out of the t-shirt and jeans, grateful that he had skipped the boots since he wasn’t leaving the suite. Down to just the g-string, he spread his arms so that Phil could see everything.

He was gratified to see that Phil’s mouth was hanging a little open, and he seemed to have trouble catching his breath. “Well?” he asked, wanting, needing more of a reaction.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Phil said. “Turn around?”

He turned around so that Phil could see the thin string going up his crack. Hands on his hips warned him to be still, but he didn’t realize that Phil had knelt until he was being spread by Phil’s thumbs and his tongue was licking over Clint’s tenderized hole.

Clint went to his toes from surprise, unable to even begin to hide the whimper that broke free. “Fuck,” he moaned. “Phil, _please_.”

Phil just licked him, the tip of his tongue sliding in just a tiny bit, just enough to make Clint crazy with want. He knew that all he had to do was step forward, turn around, and tackle Phil to the floor. But instead, he leaned forward, placing his hands on the wall, and giving Phil free rein to continue to drive him out of his mind.

The warm hands on his cheeks spread him wider, and Phil started to tongue-fuck him in earnest. Clint just tried to keep from coming all over the pretty little panties that he was wearing - he didn’t want this over that fast.

Just as he thought he couldn’t stand another second, Phil _stopped _, the _bastard_. He could hear Phil climbing to his feet, and then he was pressed up against Clint’s ass, clothed cock grinding against him. “You are so unbelievably hot in this,” Phil said, his voice a wreck. “Did you try the other pairs on? Did you look as good in those as you do in these?”__

__“Yeah,” Clint said. “Yeah, I tried them all on, and, god, I’ll show you, but please, please fuck me first? I’ve been waiting for _hours_.”_ _

__“You made me wait all day,” Phil said, but there was the click of lube opening, and slick fingers slid into him, and it felt so good that Clint was ready to melt._ _

__“How - what - “ Clint said, as Phil’s fingers slid into him, deep and perfect._ _

__Phil chuckled behind him, one finger turning to two. “Been carrying that all day, just for this moment. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it to the bed, and it looks like I was right.”_ _

__“Fuck,” Clint groaned out. “C’mon, I’m good. I need your cock, Phil. _Please_.” _ _

__Because Phil was evil, he fingered Clint for another minute before he pulled them out. There was the sound of his zipper coming down, and then the head of his cock pressed firmly against Clint’s hole. Clint took a deep breath and let it out slowly, because he usually topped and sometimes being fucked like this was too much for him, but this time it was fucking perfect as Phil’s cock slid slowly and steadily into him._ _

__When Phil was in as deep as he could get, his suit pants pressed up against Clint’s ass, Clint clenched down tight, trying to get him to move. “What are you waiting for?” he gritted out. “An engraved invitation?”_ _

__Phil’s forehead pressed against Clint’s back, between his shoulder blades. “No, but unless you want this over very fast, you’ve got to give me a second.”_ _

__Clint couldn’t help it. He turned so that he could glare at Phil over his shoulder. “ _You’re_ having issues?” he asked incredulously. “Oh, that is _it_.” Pushing back from the wall, he forced Phil back one step, two, and then Phil tripped over his own pants and fell on his ass._ _

__As tempting as it was to crack up, that wouldn’t get Clint fucked. Instead, he took advantage of Phil’s position and surprise to straddle his waist, pushing his back to the floor. Phil grinned up at Clint, and said, “So, what’s the plan?”_ _

__“This,” Clint said, reaching down to line up Phil’s cock and then sitting back, taking it as deep as he could get it. They both groaned as Clint settled into the cup of Phil’s hips. Clint didn’t give either of them a chance to adjust - he just started to _ride_ , hard and fast and just what he needed._ _

__The silk and leather of the g-string was rubbing against his cock and balls, the string on the back sliding up and down along his hole, and Clint was going to come. He was going to come _so hard_._ _

__From the noises that Phil was making, he wasn’t far behind, and that was just fine with Clint, because after the tease of this whole morning, he was going to drag Phil to the bed after they were done with this round, and he wasn’t letting him get up for hours._ _

__But right now, they just needed to fucking come. “Touch me,” Clint demanded, wanting - needing - that little bit more. But he wasn’t prepared when Phil grabbed his cock without moving the g-string out of the way, jerking him off with that little bit of silk and leather, and he cried out, letting the orgasm that he’d been chasing wash over him like a wave, not able to breathe or think or do anything besides come his brains out._ _

__It took a few moments for his brain to come back online, but when it did, he realized from the expression on Phil’s face that he hadn’t come yet. And while Phil was an evil, teasing bastard, that had been the best orgasm Clint had had in four days, and it wouldn’t be nice to leave him hanging. So Clint started to move again, his hands on Phil’s chest for balance as he made his trembling body move up and down Phil’s cock._ _

__“God,” Phil said, tipping his head back. “So good.”_ _

__Clint wasn’t one to ignore an invitation like that one, so he leaned forward and bit down hard and then sucked on Phil’s neck, right at the line where his collar would rub against it. Phil cried out, his hips bucking, and Clint could feel the flood of heat as he came._ _

__He came to a slow stop, and then shifted, letting Phil’s softening cock slide out of his hole. He knew that they should get up, get Phil out of his clothes (that definitely needed to go to the dry cleaners), clean up. But right now he just didn’t give a damn. Instead, he turned and flopped back on the floor, so that they were lying side by side._ _

__Neither of them said anything for a while, and then Phil said, “You _are_ going to model the rest of those for me, aren’t you?”_ _

__“Nope,” Clint said, yawning. Before Phil could say anything in response, he added, “We’re taking turns.”_ _


End file.
